


And Every Day Since

by bluflamingo



Category: Tipping the Velvet (TV), Tipping the Velvet - All Media Types
Genre: 5 Things, Canon Lesbian Character, Canon Queer Relationship, Domestic, Established Relationship, F/F, Genderplay, Theatre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 12:19:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/597671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluflamingo/pseuds/bluflamingo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A day in Nan's life with Florence: old acquaintances, letters from home, a night out, and the end of the day, together at home</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Every Day Since

**Author's Note:**

  * For [doctor_denmark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctor_denmark/gifts).



"Miss King, I swear."

Nan stopped, certain the voice calling for her from the stage door was one she knew, but unsure where from for a moment. "Hello?"

"Hello." A man stepped from the shadows, a music case in his hand.

"Jimmy Burns." Nan smiled, remembering spinning in his arms after her first night on stage. She remembered the striped bodice of the dress she'd worn, and how he'd made her laugh; a warm memory, with none of the heartbreak yet waiting for her. 

"I thought you must have forgotten me again." He came closer, grinning, and when Nan offered her hand, he kissed it. Before he could release her, Nan turned their hands, and dropped a kiss to the back of his, laughing as she stepped back. "I don't know whether that's more strange when you're in your skirt or your trousers."

Nan glanced down at her rehearsal clothes. "I like the choice."

To her surprise, Jimmy flushed, very slightly, and said nothing. Well, then, and perhaps she was not the only one who liked a choice. "You're to play here now?" she asked.

"A friend just came here for work, and offered some to me as well." Jimmy stepped to the side as Sid, the flame dancer, walked past. "Says he knows you, as it happens."

"Me?" Nan thought the theatre hadn't taken on anyone new, though there had been talk of an under-manager. And of course many knew her name, two years after her return to the stage, but few could truthfully say they knew her.

"Name of Tony? Says he used to court your sister."

Tony, who Alice had thrown over because he liked men as well as women. Tony, who had let Nan slip into the theatre, and unknowingly set her on the path to where she was now.

Tony, who was a friend to a horn player who liked to have a choice between men's clothes and women's.

"Oh, yes," Nan said, all of that history in her voice. "Yes, I know Tony very well."

*

Home, when Nan opened the door, Cyril running ahead of her, was warm and smelled of the meal she had set to heat while she spent her afternoon in the theatre.

"Mama, will it be oysters?" Cyril's boots clattered on the kitchen floor, but he came to a stop a way back from the stove. His eyes were wide and pleading when he looked at her.

"Not today." Nan lifted the lid, tasting the stew with a nod of satisfaction. "Maybe tomorrow."

"You say that always and it's never oysters."

Nan lifted him close and hugged him, his small hands catching at her shirt collar. "Sometimes it is, and sometimes not. You must learn patience."

Cyril tucked his head against Nan's for a moment, then wriggled for her to put him down. "May I go outside and play, Mama?"

"Stay where you can hear if I call."

Nan made her way back through the house, straightening a picture of Eleanor Marx and the small pile of stones Cyril continuously gifted to all three of them. There was a letter waiting beside the door, addressed in her mother's familiar hand, to _Mr R Banner, Misses F and N Banner, and_ , as had been custom since he was old enough to ask for it, _Master C Banner_.

Nan touched a finger to her own name. Of course on stage she remained Nan King, but seeing her name and Florence's tucked together like that, signifying the family she now belonged with, was still a source of queer joy to her.

The letter spoke of Alice's engagement to a fisherman in town, and Davy's desire to travel to London to seek his fortune - _would Mr Banner perhaps agree he could stay a night or two if needed?_. The weather was turning cold, and a boat had been nearly lost a few days past, but all rescued.

At the end of the letter, beneath her mother and father's names, Alice had written, _I hope all is well with you and Miss Banner. You must bring her again when you next visit, and Cyril too. Give my love to your family._

*

"Nan's here!" The shout went up almost before the door closed on them stepping into the bar. 

Florence, arm tucked through Nan's, laughed. "I said you should have dressed as a girl."

"I think I'm well known enough even in girl's clothes."

"I'd say that's true." Florence's tooth scraped over her bottom lip, her eyes dropping for a moment. Nan knew exactly what she was thinking, though it was hardly a challenge when she was thinking much the same. 

They were fortunate indeed that both Ralph and Cyril were deep sleepers, and would like as not be fortunate once more tonight.

"Will you give us a song tonight?" Jenny asked, same as always now she'd worked her way up to speaking directly to Nan, rather than sending her sweetheart.

"Not tonight, no. Another time."

"Another time?" Jenny looked from Nan to Florence, a slow smile of understanding spreading over her face. "Another time, then."

Florence laughed, tucking herself closer to Nan as Jenny slipped away. "There's Annie, we ought to say hello."

"Only if you promise not to spend all night talking of Eleanor Marx."

"Only Eleanor Marx?"

"Karl Marx too, and all their contemporaries." Nan ducked her head to whisper in Florence's ear. "I want you to myself tonight."

"I want you tonight," Florence whispered back, the perfect thing to say, two years to the day since she had, with her hands and her kisses, said exactly the same thing to Nan.

*

"Hush," Florence whispered when Nan stepped on the one creaking stair. "You'll wake –"

"Mama?" Cyril called, his voice soft with sleep.

Helpless even to Florence's glare, Nan dissolved into laughter. Perhaps she should not have drunk quite so much, but after all, it had been a celebration.

"Go on." Florence nudged Nan towards their bedroom. "I'll settle him down."

Nan waited until she heard Cyril asking softly after Mama and Papa, and Florence reassure him that Papa was sleeping, Mama was there and Mama was only in the very next room. She smiled as she stepped inside to make that true; Cyril, she suspected, might grow very confused as to how his family was made up, though he seemed to have no trouble distinguishing Nan and Florence, despite knowing both of them as 'Mama.'

She stripped off her jacket, her shoes and socks. Florence would want to remove the rest. Florence liked to remove the outer show of Nan as a boy and reveal the inner show of Nan as a girl. Florence would trace her hands, slow, over the bare curves of Nan's figure, her fingers warm as she brushed aside fabric until she reached skin.

Nan slid her thumb down the curve of her breast, circling the nipple through her shirt. She sighed, soft, and closed her eyes. Remembering the dip of Florence's back under her hand as they danced. Remembering the first time they had kissed, alone on the Bridge under the stars. Remembering so many nights, in this bed, and so many mornings too.

"You grow impatient so quickly." Florence's voice startled her, just barely, but Flo must have been watching her for some time. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, her blue jacket missing and the top buttons of her blouse open. 

"I was thinking of you," Nan said honestly. Of Florence's sweet, pleased smile, the one she received for the comment.

Florence crossed the room, her eyes never leaving Nan's, and sank to her knees. Nan spread her legs a little. "May I?" Florence asked. Her hand at the fastening of Nan's trousers made her intention clear.

Nan hesitated. Florence did things with her tongue that even Nan under Diana's tutelage had never learned. They rarely did such things when Nan was wearing boys' clothes – because of Nan, not Florence, and so Florence rarely asked for it.

Nan tipped Florence's face to hers, kissed her slow and deep. "Yes," she said.

*

Much later, Florence curled into Nan's arms with a small sleepy sound. Even through their night-clothes, Nan felt the warmth of her skin and the softness there. She closed her eyes, images flickering lantern bright.

Florence's hand over Nan's mouth, Florence murmuring, "hush," against Nan and licking until Nan bit her palm to keep from crying out.

Florence spread out on the bed, her leg wrapped around Nan's waist as she took Nan's fingers inside herself.

Florence, gasping with pleasure, her mouth tasting of Nan when they kissed and kissed.

Nan held Florence close to her in the dark, listened to her breathe, and thought about all the days to come, all ending just like this.


End file.
